Avocado Ice Cream

The magazine column arrangement has become a real part of the work now — quarterly, regular, each piece requiring a different angle on the same territory. Food and ranch and the life that connects them. The fifth column is due in September: I've decided to write about the relationship between planting and trust, specifically about the decision Mom and I make every April when we put seeds in the ground and implicitly agree that the summer will come. The essay is about optimism as a physical act.

Had dinner with Cole and Emma on Thursday. She's thirty-two weeks, moving carefully, the kind of careful that comes from being aware of carrying something. We sat at their kitchen table and Emma talked about the birth plan and I mostly listened and ate the soup she'd made, which was a good vegetable minestrone, and I thought about how different my life would have been if I'd stayed in the drinking — whether I would have been here at all, at this table, with these two people, eating this soup. The counterfactual doesn't have an answer. But the actuality is good enough that I don't need one.

The elk notebook is out. September is coming. I've been pulling the notebook out in September for eight years now, which means I've been doing this ritual for as long as I've been fully present in my life. The two things started at approximately the same time. I don't think that's coincidence.

Made a grilled peach salad this week — Colorado peaches again, halved and grilled cut-side down until the edges caramelize, served on arugula with prosciutto and a balsamic reduction and some fresh ricotta. Summer food at its most specific: the exact right ingredients at the exact right moment. July would have been too early. September would be too late. It's August and the peaches are ready and everything is in its right place.

The grilled peach salad was the meal, but afterward I wanted something cold and simple — something that required the same trust in good ingredients doing the work. Avocado ice cream sounds strange until you make it, and then it just sounds obvious: ripe fruit, cream, a little sweetness, and the patience to let it set. It’s the same principle as the peaches on the grill — you start with something that’s ready and you don’t get in its way.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes (plus 4–6 hours freezing) | Total Time: 6 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 ripe avocados, halved and pitted
1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Blend the base. Scoop the avocado flesh into a blender or food processor. Add the sweetened condensed milk, lime juice, salt, and vanilla extract. Blend until completely smooth, scraping down the sides as needed.
Whip the cream. In a large bowl, beat the heavy cream with a hand mixer or stand mixer until stiff peaks form, about 3–4 minutes.
Fold together. Gently fold the avocado mixture into the whipped cream in two additions, using a spatula and working carefully to keep the mixture light and airy.
Freeze. Transfer the mixture to a lidded, freezer-safe container and smooth the top. Press a piece of plastic wrap directly against the surface to prevent ice crystals, then cover with the lid.
Set and serve. Freeze for at least 4–6 hours or until firm. Let sit at room temperature for 5 minutes before scooping. Serve as-is or with a squeeze of lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Avocado Ice Cream — When Everything Is in Its Right Place